Dear Abuser:
You have hurt me. You have caused me great pain and suffering and turmoil. You have wrecked so much in my life. You have caused me to lose part of myself. You have silenced me by being bigger, louder, stronger, more cruel, more of a liar, more sneaky, smarter, conniving, a trickster, a con, by gossiping and spreading slime, by convincing others of your truth, by dragging me into the abys with your steal claws, your teeth bared and your firey eyes gleaming with enjoyment. You are mean and nasty and jealous and full of hate. You are a liar and a thief.
You terrify me. You are so sick. You are so very, very lost and fragile and parts of you are so very human and obviously messed up. Those aren't the parts that scare me though, it's your vacant parts that infuse me with fear. The stuff that's missing from your soul that allows you to behave like a leech without any thought whatsoever to my loss of blood. The fact that you can repeat your stuff over and over and over and over with such gusto and while perfecting what you do, each time, becoming more and more adept at your games, your tricks, your blood sucking leeching... is frightening because I cannot tell when or where or how it will ever end, or who will be your next victim, or why there is no way to stop you.
But there isn't. I know that. I have to accept it. I have to live with it. I have to go on, regardless of your venum spewing tactics and your life draining ploys. There is no way to stop you. And you will never stop yourself, will you?
And what really gets me is how perfectly you make yourself appear while extracting each drop of blood. How incidiously you have done it, for years and years and how easily I let you away with it! You are right. You are perfect. You are perfect at what you do. I doubt there is a way to improve on that. No one else could do a better job than you. No one else could possibly be more convincing, more lovable-looking while stealing life force with such perfection! I must remind myself to forgive me for lettiing you do that. For not detecting it. I am in no way nearly, or partially, as perfect at such things, or their detection.....as you are. You're so it.
I want to rip your teeth from your head. I want to pull your claws out. I want to strip your costume away and let the world see your naked raw pathetic shallowness, your falsehood, every twisted word, every fake inch of you, every wicked twisted part. It's the anger that makes me want to expose you. The anger.....that drives such thoughts. Anger. So much of it. Not enough though.....to fill me with hate.
And I feel sorry for you. I really do. And so I can't feel angry for long because I know in my mind that you are truly a sick puppy. You are really not responsible for the way you are. You did not cause it or choose it. You are the victim of something else that is not your doing. But at the same time.....I know you have made choices.....it's just that whatever sick, ill, diseased thing that drives you is in charge.....and I feel such pity for such a powerless, clueless, heartless person. You can't stop yourself, can you? You just can't.....so you think....so you believe.....so you just continue to act like a snake.
Pity. Guilt for feeling angry with your sickness. Giant anger. Round and round. Over and over. Some days are better than others. Some days I forget entirely about you. Some days I go on with my life as if you never existed. Some days I feel no pain at all. I am able to completely block it. It's not there. It's gone. It's over. I can't erase it but I can ignor it. Or I can release it a little at a time. Like now. What you did to me has no power on those days. What you do to me has no power on those days.
But on other days........I want to scream. I want to wring your kneck. I want to hide some place. I want to end the pain and the hurt and the anger and the guilt and the stupid pity. I want to go over to your house and throw eggs at your windows. I want to put banana peels where you walk. I want to lay glass under the tires of your car. I want to agrivate you. Irritate you. Cause you inconvenience. Upset your equilibrium...or what appears to be your equilibrium. I want to drain your energy the way you have drained mine. I want to break your spirit like you've broken mine. I want to give you some of your own medicine and see you squirm, for a change. And then I feel frustrated for wanting that because I know it won't do any good. For you or for me. It won't do any good.
You haven't done anything wrong, right? You have nothing to be sorry for. You are unaware of how much you hurt, how much you destroy. You aren't capable of imagining yourself in that light. You are just perfect and IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII am the one who is f*(*&^%$%^$#'d up!!!
And you've convinced the world that it is so. And you will keep your campaign going until you thinkkkkkkkkkkk of something more enjoyable to do. Won't you?
And I will have to accept it and move away from what you do, from what you generate, from what you try to infuse, from what you try so hard to create. I am soooooooo lucky! Because I am notttttt like you. I can do exactly that and I am doing it......a bit at a time.....on some days......and on more and more days, as the days go by. And sooooooooon.........you will just be a sad thought, a weak memory, a half-forgotten series of events that fade and fade, as time passes. I hope you miraculously heal. I hope you are cured some day. I hope you will see the light and change the way you behave. That's the best I can hope for and it's what separates me from you by such a great, wide, deep chasm.
